


Burning Bridges

by Stitch_with_love



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 05:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14927924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stitch_with_love/pseuds/Stitch_with_love
Summary: This was my response to a request I got on tumblr





	Burning Bridges

Uta sat at his desk in his flat at Hysy Studio, and he was making a new mask for a member of the clowns. This new mask was plain white, except it had two red circles at the level of the person’s eyes. Uta’s girlfriend curiously watched over his shoulder as he began to carefully carve two crosses into the center of each circle. He’d already sculpted the mouth earlier- the plain lips had a feminine touch to them. Together these details made the mask look kind of creepy. She always tried to picture how the masks would look on someone, and sometimes liked to interpret why Uta designed them a certain way, it wasn’t always obvious, but it was fun. “Why so many clown masks, Uta? Have you guys been clowning around lately?” She nudged him gently with her elbow. 

Uta smiled at the sound of her breathy laughter behind him, a pleasant shudder running through him as her breath tickled his neck. 

She leaned forward and kissed him affectionately on the cheek. He’d been working a lot recently, more than she'd seen in awhile. She thought of how tired he was, and began to massage his shoulders. He flinched at the pressure of her nimble fingers, the muscles there refusing to relax at her gentle yet insistent hands. 

She kissed the back of his neck this time, unease fluttering in her stomach. She wondered why he was so tense. She noticed how his casual nature was diminished lately, how stiff his shoulders were. This was more than his heavy workload, she knew it. Even when he tried to hide it. Something was wrong.

“I… need to tell you something. It's very important.” He turned his head back in her direction, a little smile touching down on his lips for a moment before fading. 

He steeled himself for the words. He had them rehearsed over and over in his head, played the scenario out with different endings each time. But even so. He knew he was powerless in the final outcome.

“What, Uta? What is it?”

“I think it's for the best that we shouldn't see each other anymore…” With each word his voice faded more and more, trailing off.

She didn't seem to hear what he said. She didn't want to.

The silence was unbearable. They both waited for the other to say more- say something! 

“Why?” 

He turned back to the mask on the table. He couldn't face her.

“You can tell me anything, Uta. Anything.”

He shook his head, “I can't tell you.” 

He reached up to touch her, to hold her hands, to console her. 

“How long?”

She snatched her hands away, and he felt an awful cold in his chest.

“It shouldn't be long-” 

“Well- You can't tell me anything, remember? So how can you say it won't be long?”

He stood up abruptly, feeling like he'd failed at making things easy for her. But how could it be easy to tell your partner that it was over? Even for a little bit- it's painful. To both parties. He tore himself away from her, and began to pace. Again he went through the many ways this could end- and agonizingly combed over what had just happened. 

She stood there in outrage, incredulously she watched him pace- until she couldn't watch any more and walked over to stand in his way. She grabbed his arms, and this time he didn't dare touch her himself, obediently waiting for her to decide. 

“We're supposed to be there each other! Uta! Don't shut me out!”

He sighed heavily through his nose- he'd never felt so agitated in a long time. He was at the crossroads, and could only go one way. 

His fingers pushed through his dark locks roughly. Some of his hair caught on his fingers but he only ripped through the knots, without a care about the stinging pain on his scalp. 

“I'm not shutting you out! I want to-”

“What?” Her voice broke- “What do you want to do?”

I want to protect what's precious to me. 

“I want to protect you.” 

That is why we must be apart. 

“Leaving me in the dark isn't going to protect anyone!”

He remained silent. 

“Dammit Uta! Talk to me!”

He dreaded what was going to happen, but finally he came out with it. 

“I am in collusion with the clowns. You can’t stay here, and you can’t stay around me. It’s better that we... that we stop seeing each other entirely. My enemies might use you against me.”

He felt his heart drop when he saw the expression on her face, he watched the moment when everything irreversibly changed ,and he was helpless to do anything about it. He could not sway the end, only live through it and hope for the best. 

“That’s why…?” 

Her eyes welled with tears as they darted to look at all the masks hanging above them on the walls, an imagined cacophony of laughter in her head. They were laughing at them. The loudest came from the completed mask waiting for its owner on the table. 

She stepped closer to him, tilting her head to get a good look at his face even though his face revealed nothing except for the troubled crease between his sparse eyebrows. 

He watched in quiet distress as the tears rolled down her face. 

“Forgive me,” he whispered, feeling as though the walls were crumbling. His heart broke that he was the cause of her despair. 

Her pain demanded to be felt. To be known. He would not deny her that, since he was the cause after all. He deserved to know- he would not turn away, the ever faithful spectator. 

His apparent lack of emotions further deepened the wound in her heart. She was sobbing now, her shoulders rising and falling. 

“Uta….” She sobbed. 

He opened his mouth. Closed his mouth. 

“How could you? How could you make this Clown bullshit more important? How could you put this over me?” 

She patted her chest with her open hands. “Me!?” her voice frayed. 

He whispered her name, and stepped forward to console her. To hold her and say he was sorry, that what she said wasn't true. Nothing was more important than her. That's why he needed her to stay away from him until it all cooled down. 

She turned away, surprisingly swift from his outstretched right hand. He wanted to tell her that it wouldn't be forever. That when all of the clown business was done he'd gratefully sweep her off her feet again. But he never got the chance. His finger tips only skimmed across her right shoulder, barely grazed her soft hair. That was the last time he saw her again for a long time,  
the last time he was able to physically touch her. Uta felt like he was suffocating- she was like the oxygen he needed to breathe, the very thing that was kept his heart beating, kept him vigorous, full of life. He stood in the same place for hours. No, perhaps the minutes seemed like hours. 

He stared at the place she'd been standing in- replayed her path to the door, the slam echoing aggressively in his mind. He unconsciously massaged the place where his heart was beating frantically, as though doing so could ever soothe the fresh agony that was not physical; in fact it felt like taking a sharp, pointed kagune straight through the heart. It could not be reached, would not be healed. It existed without remorse or consideration for the sorry being who suffered now. It demanded to be felt(as hers did), and would not let him ignore it for a moment. Only she could fix him, only she could end it. But she was gone. 

He felt numb- his vision blurred as he stared into nothing. Uta didn't remember staggering back to his chair, didn't recall how the sudden weight of his body thrown into his chair(which was the type with wheels on it because Uta did not like to be confined to one spot- he liked to roam) crashed into the table, knocking over his cup of various writing utensils, a few rulers, several erasers worn down into circles and no longer retaining their rectangular shape; the crash also sent the cup of murky paint water crashing onto the checkered floor. He didn’t care. 

The void seemed to stretch out before him forever. Time slowed to an unbearable crawl. Uta knew nothing but misery. He simply could not endure the awful emptiness- that chunk of meaning- was carved out from his soul the moment she left and took that part of him with her. 

 

 

She left him broken and devoid of warmth again, just like before. But he felt no resentment toward her. He knew well that only he was to blame. Sometimes during that awful period of her absence he found himself wishing he never laid eyes on her. That fate had never brought her into his path because then he would not feel so awful. He didn't want to see anyone. He'd been inconsolable. He could not bear to endure even the company of Itori or Nico. 

No matter how many times they stopped by for another futile attempt to take him to Helter Skelter to drink the sorrow away. 

Strangely enough Yomo did not come to visit him as he'd hoped. The sheer, unforgiving truth that Yomo did not show up in his time of dire need served to deepen the chasm in his chest, had him again clutching his heart without notice, his hand a futile bandaid against the festering wound. He could not fix himself. Most of all he sought the company of Yomo, but at the same time he did not want to drag his best friend into the mix. 

Once or twice he caught his legs betraying him, leading him along the familiar route to the :Re Cafe. Or her apartment. He abrubtly turned around. As he did he still wished for Yomo to miraculously materialize beside him, to accompany him with his calming presence as he told him everything. Uta never felt so lonely. 

Unbeknownst to him, Yomo had indeed the perfect image of Uta in his mind. A week after the quarrel and departure, Uta stopped answering his phone, and Yomo did not understand why he never answered the door. Itori and Nice were no help, Itori as usual coyly beating around the bush. She told him to leave Uta be, that he’d show up on his own when he wanted to be found. She huffed, saying that Uta wasn’t interested in going out on the town. He’d hidden himself away. 

But Yomo was just as stubborn as Uta. When nothing came up he began the search for Uta’s significant other, who had also dropped off the radar. She would know where he was, he had to. Yomo was also concerned for her as well. If Uta wasn’t around, something awful must have happened. Something that he declined to tell Itori. Uta wouldn’t go into hiding for nothing. He waited after knocking softly at her door. The longer he waited the more the unease dug deeper in his heart. It plagued him like the decay of an infected wound, festering and spreading, becoming more intense as time passed until it consumed the patient. 

 

When she opened the door to her apartment and saw Yomo standing there, she immeditely wanted to ask him about Uta, but pushed all thoughts of him aside as soon as they came.  
She politely allowed Yomo to come inside and sit on her couch. Eventually she caved and asked Yomo if she’d seen him since then, but he said he hadn’t. He hadn’t spoken to Uta either, or even seen him. Then she filled him in on the fall out she had with Uta. She expected Yomo to side with Uta because they were friends the longest, long before she ever came into their lives, or that maybe he’d only remain neutral and gently offer a few words.

“Uta shouldn't have been fucking around knowing that doing such antagonistic shit like that would endanger his loved ones- especially you, with all the enemies he’d be making- and if he really cared he wouldn't have gone through with it.” Yomo didn’t say anything else for a long time. He was angry at him yet torn over the fact that his best friend was suffering. She was deeply touched that he sided with her, but she also had conflicting thoughts. A quiet guilt at being pleased that Yomo was on her side- she felt that she was splitting the friends up. But Yomo saw these thoughts on her face and he apologized to her, and awkwardly put his hand on her shoulder, patting twice before he stiffly withdrew his arm. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” She smiled warmly at him, taking a sip from her coffee. 

 

 

It had been some time since they separated, a few months perhaps. Then again, he couldn't be sure. The pain in his heart was as fresh as the day she left- the time since then had merged into one awful moment- it was yesterday. It was forever. It was the blink of his eye. 

 

However, what he saw during a stroll through the park some time later helped him gain some clarity. It hit him like a sudden powerful punch to the gut. Now he was the one who’d been in the dark. He understood Itori and Nico's secretive worrisome glances at each other when they thought he did not see, their eagerness to have him drink until he forgot, their gentle suggestions, which he always declined. At last he finally understood why Yomo did not visit. 

There they were. Not Itori or Nice, but Yomo and his ex. They were sitting on the grass in the shade of a tree, they were pointing at a bunch of ducks. He saw them laughing as one little duck warily crept closer to Yomo. The duck noticed his peace offering, and snatched it from his fingers before swiftly returning to the safety of the water. 

He was disgusted with himself for the frantic beating of his heart when he saw the way they looked at each other. But this torment quickly faded away into a calm acceptance- and a rather unwanted and unexpected sting in his eyes. 

Perhaps he would never get a chance to be close with her again as he was in the past, which seemed so distant now. 

However wistful it was, the simple knowledge that it was Yomo at her side, and not someone he did not know or trust was enough to soothe his ever yearning ache for her, the need to touch her and the need to be wanted by her and only her. He knew that Yomo would never betray her. Yomo would protect her always, be the silent observer, ever alert in regard to her well being. Yomo would never ever make the same regrettably stupid mistake he had. 

He thought it over now. Seeing her with Yomo served to heal and sew together the torn, pieces of his heart that had continuously bled into his chest for months. He felt within him a warmth melting the frigid emptiness inside, but the healing process was not complete. It would take more time, much like the very slow regeneration of humans. 

But even so, as Uta watched them kiss each other, he smiled through his ever present pain. Even if they would never be together again, or ever be as close as they were, she was still going to be here, and most importantly she would be happy. And that was enough for him, the very thought that she existed even if she never spoke to him again, or even forgot about him. He doubted she could forget him, but, it was still a fear of his. Perhaps a little later when he was stronger he would finally approach them again.


End file.
